


Winter Passing

by bloodontheground



Category: British Actor RPF, Henry Cavill - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:42:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23499946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodontheground/pseuds/bloodontheground
Summary: Injured and left for dead in the middle of a nowhere state, he traverses peaks and valleys for days without seeing any sign of civilization. Just as death’s icy fingers begin to coil around him, he finds a cabin in a clearing. Terrified from years of being told fairy tales and ghost stories, he nevertheless knocks on the door.When he wakes, he finds not a demon, but an angel, long removed from the insanity of the modern world.
Relationships: Henry Cavill/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 35





	1. The Silence in the Trees

It had been one of the worst storms the area had seen in years. Snow, wind, ice, and hale had all done their best to batter down their part of the earth. Despite the severity, it had only succeeded in blanketing the clearing with a fresh coat of powder. Protected as it had always been by the mountain on one side and the ocean on the other, the clearing’s stream and small lake stood relatively untouched by the late winter assault; she wouldn’t have to break the ice for water today, but she would have to cut more wood. **  
**

Starting her day as she always had, Olivia woke as slowly as the sun did, brewing a tea of peppermint and the last of the season’s lemon balm to warm and waken herself from the inside out. She gave Gunnar his first meal of the day, smiling as her 4-year-old Husky grumbled his way to his bowl, clearly muttering to himself about how long she’d taken to get up. Her own breakfast would come after her morning duties, and before she set about the early afternoon’s activities of reading, cooking, and writing. It would be a simple day, topped off with a sumptuous dinner of braised rabbit stew and homemade bread and wine. Winter was a vacation from the various duties of the other seasons and Olivia looked forward to every second, fleeting though they were.

She’d forgone snow pants the moment she’d moved to the clearing, having studied the area well enough to know she’d never get snowed in, and never deal with the sharp, nipping temperatures the rest of the state felt throughout the winter months. Wearing long johns, jeans, woolen socks, and her tried-and-tested winter boots, she set about collecting the water, cutting the wood, and feeding her small crop of animals, talking to each one as she went. She doted on her creatures, all of them telling her a daily story of the previous day’s activities simply with their eyes, their sniffs, and their eagerness for food. Petting her lamb, she reminded herself to start on her next knitting project using her old girl’s spring sheering, Olivia excited by the prospect of a new, even cozier sweater.

The incense was lit once she’d come in with the water, and the hearth was stoked in preparations for the afternoon’s cooking. It wasn’t until she was in the middle of chopping wood that she felt the shift in the air. Stopping all movement, she scanned what she could of the clearing, assuaged in her fear only by the fact that her rifle sat on a stump at arm’s length. Bigger game was rare, only due to the difficulty in accessing the area, but she’d had one run-in too many with a bear to trust that it was impossible. She registered the silence of the birds with trepidation, but as they hadn’t flown, she knew whatever was coming wasn’t as dreadful a predator as it could be.

Finally, her eyes caught the part of the clearing that didn’t belong, the shape dark against the white of the snow and mountains. It wasn’t an animal, but from far off in the field, she couldn’t tell whether it was a man or a woman who approached her door. Moving silently, each step soft and calculated, she flanked the stranger and quickly made her way into her small cottage by way of the back door. Old habits die hard and even in the middle of nowhere, she kept her front door locked and latched, a practical protection to top off all the more mystical ones she’d placed on the location upon moving in. Shoe-less, she slid across the hardwood floor, using the column that divided the kitchen from the front room to her advantage in order to catch a glimpse of the person knocking desperately. To her shock, the first thing she saw was blood, a mask of it covering the face of a man who couldn’t be older than 35. His breath fogged the front windows, and before she could even call out, he’d fallen like a sack of potatoes at her doorstep. Whatever had happened to him, had been bad enough that he’d decided to brave the wilds rather than stay by the road waiting for help. Her only hope was that he wasn’t dead. The trek into town was laborious under the best weather conditions; in winter, it was nearly impossible.

## 

**—————————–**

Henry’s day had gone from bad to worse. 

Packing up had been hard enough, with Tabitha’s cat trying to bat at or bite him at every given opportunity. His ex certainly didn’t help matters, her words as cutting as her cat’s claws. Though they’d been together nearly five years, Henry felt like he barely knew the woman she’d turned into over the last few months. It was the great tragedy of his life, but it was quickly becoming his worst nightmare; he had no choice but to move on. 

With the last load packed, he’d hit the highway one last time, looking forward only to ordering a pizza and calling it a day in his new, ramshackle, bachelor pad. He worried his Escalade would look out of place among the sea of Hondas and Kias that littered the parking lot of his new residence, but Henry knew he’d be trading in the car soon enough, and vowed to get into something a little less conspicuous. 

He was halfway to his destination when the ABS light came on, blinking rapidly. Nearly as soon as it had come on, the light switched off once more. Henry thought little of it, but made a mental note to mention it to his mechanic the next time he went in for service. Before he could even finish his thought however, the car in front of him began to slow down. Pressing the brake, Henry felt a cold chill go through him as his foot went directly to the floor. Trying again, and pumping the pedal this time, he got the same result. His immediate–albeit regrettable–thought was that Tabitha had drained his brake fluid and caused him to ride dry. Without the fluid, there’d be no way of applying pressure to the discs, leaving him without an option that didn’t involve a crash. 

With the car ahead quickly approaching his front bumper, Henry looked around, trying to figure out the best possible route. He couldn’t switch lanes due to a semi on his left, and careening across four lanes seemed deadly even if it did get him to the inside shoulder of the highway. Heart sinking, he closed his eyes and veered right at the last moment, knowing full well he was about to die. Aside from the small patch of forest, there was little to keep him from rolling right off the side of the mountain and to certain doom. Bracing, Henry did his best to keep the wheel straight once he began cutting through brush, hoping for the best. 

The violent scream of metal on rock accompanied his own cries as the SUV began to roll and skid at a steep descent. Henry dared not open his eyes as all the windows shattered, the dash caved in on itself and his steering wheel made contact with his head more than once. He blacked out as the car careened down the side of the mountain, waking only when it came to a bone-crunching stop at the base of a sturdy pine tree. 

His consciousness mercifully kept him in and out until the smell of burning rubber woke him for good. Feeling the heat building in the footwell, Henry moved only through the power of adrenaline, scrambling for his seatbelt cutter and taking a deep breath before slicing through the woven fabric, his body hitting what used to be the roof with a sickening thud. Crawling through the shattered glass of the passenger window, Henry moved as far away as he could, turning back only to see the car engulfed in flames. With the fire making it too dangerous to try and save any of the trunk’s contents, Henry patted his body down, looking for his phone, hoping he could at least make a call to get out. When he came up empty-handed, one look back to his vehicle confirmed what he’d feared; his cell was still in the center console, burning to a crisp with the rest of his things.

Though he wanted to sit and wallow in self-pity waiting for help to arrive, a sharp sting of wind reminded him he had to move. Having considered himself something of a well-prepared man prior to the accident, Henry cursed himself for not having worn his winter coat while driving, the warm garment turning to ash along with his winter boots in the fire. He chuckled to himself, thinking of how thrilled his ex would be to learn of his demise, out in the woods at the bottom of the mountain, walking in circles until he’d succumbed to the elements. 

“You’ll finally get your wish, Tabs. Me out of your life for good!” He called out with a barking laugh, Henry tucking his hands into his pockets as he looked around for a suitable walking stick. The flaring pain in his knee was enough to warn him against trying to walk unassisted, and with fresh powder coming nearly to his thighs, he knew better than to try it even in perfect health. 

Red coated his vision as he bent over to grab a snapped branch. Rubbing at his eyes, the breath caught in his throat as the back of his hand came away soaked with fresh blood. Logically he knew head wounds bled more, but at that moment, it scared him badly, Henry once again being reminded that death was nipping at his heels. Propelled forward, he limped in the only direction he could go; towards the lake.

## 

**—————————–**

Gathering her courage, and sliding her sharpest knife into the back of her belt, Olivia crept to the door and opened it, gasping as the man’s head fell lifeless into her home, thankfully still attached to his very poorly-clothed body. Most residents of the state knew better than to go anywhere without a snow coat, good sturdy boots, and thick pants, yet the man had on little more than jeans, sneakers, and a sweater. It’d be a wonder if she could save him even with all her knowledge. Mildly annoyed that her perfectly-planned day had gone haywire so early, and more than a little grumpy from lack of food, Olivia nevertheless hooked her arms under his and dragged him inside, laying him down in front of the hearth before locking the doors, and setting about gathering what she would need in order to try and wake him, patch him up, and hopefully get him out at the earliest possibility.

For lack of ammonia, she used alcohol as a smelling salt, waving a cotton bud soaked in it under his nose as she watched the water begin to boil in the pot on the fire. A homemade salve, several lengths of cotton batting, and honey from her own hive all sat to the side, ready to be used in cleansing and dressing whatever wounds were causing him to bleed so profusely. As she waited for him to come around, Olivia took stock of the man, noting his fine features, soft hands, and well-manicured beard. A nomad he was not, though his clothes had broadcast as much the moment she saw them. No, wherever this man was from, he was definitely not prepared for nature, and if she had to venture a guess, he’d crashed on the road above the clearing and had been driving in a climate-controlled car before being ejected into mother nature’s frozen arms.

When he showed no sign of waking, Olivia set to work on cleaning what she could see. The two gashes on his head, both at the hairline were her first priority. Cleaning them thoroughly, she applied a liberal amount of honey to each before fashioning the bandages so that they pulled the wounds closed. While she was a fair hand at sewing, none of her threads were strong enough to hold skin together and she didn’t want to take the risk of adding to any potential infections. 

With the rest of his body still clothed, she pushed his large frame closer to the hearth, covering him in her thickest blanket and taking off his water-logged shoes and socks to check for frostbite. When all she saw was irritated red skin, Olivia dried his feet and applied cornstarch before letting the blanket fall back over his toes, knowing he needed to get warm, but without shocking his system and short of a warm bath, laying next to the hearth would be his best bet. 

Satisfied that she’d done as much as she could, Olivia cleaned up and went upstairs to change into something a little more comfortable than all the layers she’d been wearing. Donning a gauzy moss-green dress that dragged along the floor, she threw a long-sleeved shawl over it and, feeling the beginnings of a hunger headache starting, took down her hair from its messy bun, knotting only the top half before putting a hair stick through it, Olivia feeling immediately better.

## 

**—————————–**

Henry wasn’t sure what heaven–or hell–was supposed to be like, but he was almost certain neither place was supposed to be _wet_. Groaning, he turned his head, only to feel like his entire brain had shifted sloppily from one side of his skull to the other. Unwilling to open his eyes, his hand found its way out from under the weight that was on it, managing to bat away whatever was causing his face to feel like it had been slimed. 

“Gunnar!” A voice hissed, and though it hurt to do so, Henry finally cracked open an eyelid, wishing he could move faster as he found himself in a veritable witch’s cottage. Dark wood served as the backdrop for more candles than he had ever seen in one home. As his vision cleared, Henry made out several animal bones, and what he could only imagine to be an altar of some sort, given the rather large deer skull surrounded by rune stones, a dish of herbs, more candles, and a beautifully polished stone of some sort. 

Waiting for the stereotypical hag to appear, Henry was startled when around the corner came the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on. If he were in heaven, he’d gladly deal with the pagan stylings of whatever angel called this place home. 

Watching as the dog who’d just been giving his face a bath moved away, Henry tried to find his voice, but what came out was a croaky jumble of words that only served to put an amused smile on the angel’s face. 

“Dead? You heaven?”


	2. Coming To

Olivia did her best to keep from laughing at the man slumped in front of her hearth. His reaction to her home, and to her, was one for the record books. Most people who crossed onto her land were curious, some talkative to the point of being obnoxious and some too scared to even say more than a hello for fear she would put them in an oven or make them part of the house. She wasn’t sure why grown men and women still held onto childhood fairytale nonsense, but in the stranger’s case, with his expression as if he’d seen a ghost, his first words were icing on the cake, and Olivia had to cover her mouth to keep the noise from escaping.

When sobered enough to maintain a straight face, Olivia stepped into the living room and crouched down so she was eye-level with her patient. “Hi. I’m Olivia. You passed out on my porch. What’s your name?” 

“H-Henry.” The man answered, his eyes still drooping from what Olivia could only suspect was a concussion. She’d have to task Gunnar with keeping him awake lest the fatigue take hold. 

“ _ Henry. From the old Germanic meaning ‘Home Ruler’ _ .” Olivia murmured more to herself than to anyone else, swirling the name around in her mind as though it were vintage wine. “Do you remember what day it is?” She asked, moving to sit cross-legged on the floor next to him, one hand extending tentatively out to check his head for any more bumps now that he was sitting up somewhat. 

“It’s Monday. Worst day of the week,” Henry grumbled despite a soft smile thrown in her direction. “I don’t remember much of anything. Definitely don’t remember how I got here. Have you called the police?” He gave her the added information without Olivia needing to prod, Henry’s question making her smile. 

“No. Usually, I wait until my visitors are coherent before making assumptions and calling for help.” Winking at him, she chuckled and helped him shift to a more comfortable position resting against her couch. 

“Don’t try and stand just yet. Pretty sure that with the angle your leg was at when you slumped into the doorway, you’re gonna be hurting if you try. So you don’t remember how you got to the bottom of the mountain?” Olivia asked as she stood once more, moving to the kitchen to start on breakfast and some peppermint tea for her guest. 

Monday was her day to include mending in her practice, and it seemed as though the universe was sending Olivia her greatest challenge yet. Discreetly, she saged the kitchen, paying special attention to the cup Henry would drink from, hoping that along with the mint, the sage would begin to cleanse him of any of the negativity his incident had brought through her door. 

Henry watched Olivia move about the kitchen, barefoot and so in tune with her surroundings that it made him wonder if she had made the house with her own two hands. Far more graceful than his ex, it seemed almost like she had a trail of stardust propping up every movement of her arms and legs. It may have been the concussion affecting his vision, but Henry was enthralled nonetheless. 

“Are you allergic to anything, Henry?” Olivia asked, breaking Henry’s reverie as she pulled eggs from the basket on the counter, butter from the dish, and ham from the icebox. After a moment’s pause and the realization that she had no bread, Olivia grabbed grated potato from the icebox and placed it next to the ham, switching her original menu from an omelet to a breakfast hash for better balance. 

“Not last I checked,” he replied, his smile lopsided and boyish, Henry’s attention moving only briefly to Gunnar who’d made his thigh resting place for his fuzzy head, the dog huffing out a great sigh as though he knew his owner was in for a long night with their new guest.

Olivia finished off his tea with honey, adding a single lavender bud in the bottom to help with the wearing off of the adrenaline she could still feel coursing from his every pore. Whatever had happened, it had been bad enough to force him to walk all the way to her place injured, and no one did that unless they absolutely had to. 

“Here. Drink slow and just know you’re safe now. Nothing’s broken or dislocated, but I don’t want you in a rush to leave here because the injuries you  _ do _ have aren’t exactly minor. Do you feel dizzy?” She asked as she handed over the mug, noting the almost imperceptible tremor in his hands as he took the drink, another sign that if she didn’t get him fed, bathed, and into the downstairs bedroom soon, he’d be in a world of pain. 

Henry went to nod, but the room spun too hard, forcing him to take deep breaths in order to make it stop. When the wave of seasickness passed, he managed a weak smile and said, “Yes, the room’s still moving quite a bit.” 

Olivia resisted the urge to ruffle his curls, blinking it away and silently questioning herself on the matter, wondering if maybe she’d been too long removed from human contact. Going back to her stove, she checked on the hash and found it ready to plate. 

“Smells amazing,” Henry commented as she approached, two plates perched in one hand, a mug of strong coffee in the other. “Gunnar, scoot,” she spoke softly to the dog, getting a half-hearted growl before he jumped up onto the couch, wedging his head promptly between the two humans, intent on not only staying in the circle of conversation but of seeing if there was anything worth eating on their plates. 

“Here,” Olivia grinned, giving Gunnar a piece of ham, swearing she could see him smile as he scarfed it down.

“He’s quite the character,” Henry chuckled, graciously accepting the fork Olivia offered before looking at the plate with an elated grin. 

“Looks amazing too. One final test left,” he joked, giving her a wink. 

Olivia admired the fact that, despite everything he seemed to have gone through given his injuries, he’d still managed to retain his humor. It was rare in her limited experience with men, and she found herself smiling around her first bite, appreciating the company of someone other than Gunnar for the first time in a long time. 

They ate in comfortable silence, occasionally sneaking glances at one another, Olivia in fear that Henry would fall asleep, and Henry in curiosity that this was the life Olivia had chosen for herself. He couldn’t understand why anyone, let alone a woman by herself, would choose to live in the middle of nowhere, off the grid, and with little more than a dog for company.

When they finished, Olivia made quick work of the plates, cleaning them before the remnants could dry and stick. Not having running water was tricky at times, but she always made it work, no matter the circumstances. 

“Okay, you stay put for a bit--stay awake--and I’m gonna fill the tub. We’ll get you cleaned up, then over to bed for some rest. Sound good?” Olivia asked, wrapping the shawl tighter around herself before slipping on her coat and stepping barefoot into her boots in preparation for bringing in the four buckets of water she’d need to heat over the hearth in order to fill the  [ clawfoot tub that rested in the sunroom ](https://i.imgur.com/jRG4iho.jpg) across from the kitchen. 

With the first bucket filled, Olivia dumped it in the sparkling tub before crouching down and lighting the firebox beneath the ceramic. She slowed her pace on the second, giving the fire enough time to do its work before another layer of frigid water was added. By the time she was on the fourth, the water was nearly too hot; the last bucket took it down low enough to get into, and by the time she got Henry  _ in _ , it would be the perfect temperature for soaking. 

Olivia glanced quickly over the bundles that hung above the tub, picking a handful of Tujah, Wintergreen, Wormwood, and Mugwort, before adding Sage and Willow Bark to the mix. Satisfied with the amount of pain relief the plants would provide, Olivia moved back to the living room, concentration clear in her features. 

“Bend your knees. Tell me which one hurts worse,” she instructed, watching the confusion on Henry’s face turn to realization. Slowly, he did as asked, wincing when he bent his left leg. It was all the answer she needed. “Okay, I’m gonna pull you up, and when I do, put your weight on your good leg, got it?” With Henry’s nod, she extended both hands and waited for his grip to firm before pulling him towards her, catching his large frame just under his arms when he came up too fast. 

“Easy, easy,” she coaxed, slinging his left arm across her shoulders, Olivia making herself a veritable crutch for him to use. 

With nothing but natural light to illuminate the room, some of the bruising on Henry’s face became more apparent. “Hit the dash pretty hard, huh?” Clicking her tongue, she shook her head, grateful he’d made it as far as he had in more or less one piece. 

“You reckon it was a car accident?” Henry wondered, still having no recollection of how he came to end up on Olivia’s doorstep, nor of the events leading up to it. Whatever the cause, he was thankful he’d ended up in such experienced hands. 

“I’ll turn around. The cloth is for...well, you know...once you get in,” Olivia explained, needing to stay only so she could evaluate the injuries hidden by his clothing and make sure that he’d be able to get out of the deep tub without further causing harm to his already battered body. 

  
Henry took one look at the small square washcloth, and couldn’t help the smirk that crossed his face. “Love, I hate to say it, but  _ that _ ? Won’t be enough for modesty.” 


	3. Wash Away

Henry got in the hot water with a wince, every joint starting to ache as the fear and anxiety wore away and he came to terms with the fact that it would be at least a few days before he could get out of Olivia’s cottage. **  
**

“How long have you lived out here?” He asked Olivia once he’d finished tucking the washcloth around himself as best he could, Henry almost positive she’d still get an eyeful given how small the strip of fabric was. 

Turning, Olivia kept her eyes on his face even as she sat on a stool next to the tub. Usually reserved for a candle and a glass of wine, it sat her at the perfect height to care for any hidden wounds that might not have been apparent before. 

“Out here? I think I’m going on ten years. I don’t really keep track, to be honest. Time’s slow out here, and that’s how I prefer it,” she smiled, using the light from the window to do a second check of his head, Olivia relieved when she found no cuts or goose eggs of any sort. 

With her courage worked up, she took a slow glance down his body, trying her best to focus on finding injuries and not on simply gawking at the man who, when nude, had the body of an ancient deity. Olivia swallowed thickly as she took in the broad expanse of his chest, forested with thick, dark hair, a trail of it leading to an equally hirsute set of abs. Purposely skipping her gaze over the washcloth, she focused on his legs, clicking her tongue as she saw the bruise already inky black on his knee cap. 

“That’s gonna swell. I’ll get you some ice once you’re warmed up enough,” she mentioned pointing at Henry’s knee, Olivia’s gaze lingering a moment on his toes, not wanting to miss the first signs of frostbite; treating it later would be far harder than nipping it in the bud before it had a chance to truly set in. 

Satisfied that there was no blood in the water and that his two worst injuries seemed poised to resolve themselves with time, Olivia was just about to turn her attention back to Henry’s head–and the dirt she could now see caked into his hair–when a tap on the window made her look up and smile. 

“What in the…” Henry’s mouth hung open in confusion as he looked between Olivia and the raven that perched on the windowsill, looking in expectantly. 

“That’s Dyster. He’s wanting breakfast. I’ll be right back. No closing your eyes,” Olivia grinned before looking at Henry sternly, still worried that he’d slip off into sleep and make his head injury all the worse. 

Flitting to the kitchen, she pulled the icebox open again and pulled three strips of beef from a container with a fork, throwing a piece to Gunnar before moving back to the window. 

“Dunk down, I don’t want you catching the draft. I’ll be quick, I promise,” she informed Henry as she moved to the window where Dyster’s pecking at the glass was getting more incessant. 

“Good morning, Mr.,” Olivia greeted the bird warmly, setting the meat on the windowsill before stroking over his blue-black feathers and earning herself a grateful squawk. 

“Yes, I know,” she answered, nodding. Another squawk had her frowning slightly, Olivia’s eyes focused on the bird as though she were having an actual conversation.

“No, not like that. Mind your business.” Tapping Dyster lightly on the beak, she smoothed over his feathers again before slowly shutting the window.

“One more sec,” Olivia held up a finger before moving back to the kitchen to wash her hands. For his part, Henry could only sit, stupefied at what he’d just seen. Had she really spoken to the bird as though she understood it? Should he be frightened of her mental state? Would he have to endure her pretending to understand all the animals of the forest for a week or more? He didn’t have time to ponder longer, as Olivia came back in with a breathless smile, a hewn cup in her hand. 

“Tip your head back,” she encouraged, filling the cup with water from the bath. Henry did as asked, wary of how badly it would sting his cuts. Olivia’s hand protected the bandages however, her light tough almost as soothing as the warm water that poured through his curls. Something in the water soothed him, body and mind, and any pain that he’d begun to feel was distilled until it was only an afterthought, especially when Olivia’s hand carded through his hair. 

“Mmm,” the sound escaped him before he could stop it. Low in his chest, it telegraphed just how much better he was feeling, and it made Olivia smile, proud of the knowledge that had been passed on to her and had allowed her to mend him as well as she had thus far. Shampooing his hair and being careful to not aggravate any bruises hidden by his dark curls, Olivia rinsed him a second time, then sat back.

“Here, suds up, and I’ll go grab a fresh bucket for your rinse,” she smiled, handing Henry a homemade bar of soap and a second washcloth, confident that he could do it without causing himself further injury. 

After taking the last bucket of water off the fire, she quickly headed upstairs, realizing he’d have nothing to wear once he got out. Searching through her closet, Olivia let out a noise of triumph as she found a pair of gray sweatpants and a navy blue t-shirt, a swap she’d all but forgotten she’d made years ago. While she wasn’t a packrat by any means, Olivia did make it a habit of keeping things she thought useful, and while she rarely had visitors, she’d kept the clothing in the event that someone bigger and taller than her needed a fresh set after falling in the lake or something similar.

Forgetting her own instructions to Henry, Olivia came back into the room to find him utterly nude and preoccupied with washing the remnants of blood off his arm. Nearly dropping the bucket, she turned quickly, a squeak of surprise making her presence known. Eyes squeezed shut, she once more hid her laugh as she heard the splashing of water and the scramble of Henry covering himself once more. 

“Sorry, love. Didn’t think you’d be back so quickly,” he apologized, “I’m decent.” Clearing his throat, he kept one hand over the washcloth, his cheeks pink with embarrassment. 

“It’s alright, I did ask you to wash,” Olivia mumbled, waiting a moment before turning back around. Setting the clothes on the stool, she set the bucket down and squatted next to the tub, reaching underneath the porcelain to pull the drain plug she’d fitted herself when she got it. Connected to a pipe that led out to a drum by her garden, Olivia used the water in the spring and summer to water her crops after filtering it with iodine. When the tub was nearly empty, she stood back up and lifted the bucket, holding it right at Henry’s collarbones.

“Tip your head back one more time,” she instructed softly, waiting until he was positioned and still to slowly begin pouring the warm water on him. Goosebumps followed the stream as every bit of him was simultaneously warmed and cooled by the water and air, respectively. Olivia bit her lip as she let her eyes wander over his body once more, not only ensuring all the soap was removed, but giving herself one last chance to appreciate his finely sculpted frame. Physically, there was no doubt he’d make any woman swoon, and thus far, his personality wasn’t fairing poorly either. Olivia didn’t let herself linger on her thoughts, knowing full well his stay with her was temporary and that soon enough the snow would melt and he would be gone for good. She ignored the twinge the thought put through her heart, shifting her focus back on his care and well-being. 

“Okay, so they may be a bit small because you’re a tall man, but these should fit for now,” she explained, patting the clothing once the bucket was empty and he was ready to towel off. Henry cocked his head to one side, smiling skeptically. 

“Is there a husband I should know about? One who might barge in and get the wrong idea?” He asked, the chuckle in his tone making it clear he was only pulling her leg. Henry immediately felt like scum for asking when his question didn’t elicit the laugh he thought it would, but instead drew a sad smile from Olivia. 

“No. No husband around these parts. Just me and Gunnar. You’re safe,” she finally answered, meeting his eyes only for a moment before moving the bucket out of the way. 

“Think you can stand on your own?” She asked, quickly swiping a finger along the bottom of the tub to check how slippery it could be, given all her soaps were handmade and tended to have oils in them for conditioning. She stayed close as Henry tested his arms on the rims of the tub and only backed away a few steps as he carefully stood to his full height, moving as slowly as possible so the washcloth didn’t fall on his way to being upright. Satisfied that he was sturdy enough, Olivia stepped in close once again, tugging his arm over her shoulder and wrapping her own around his back to make the transition onto her bath mat as smooth as possible. 

Once Henry was safe on solid ground, she grabbed the bucket, took a deep breath and turned her back once more, allowing him time to change. Henry made quick work of the shirt before sitting on the stool and dragging the pants up each leg, giving himself a moment’s rest before standing again and pulling them up to his hips. They were indeed a little small, but given he wasn’t going anywhere, it didn’t matter. 

“All set,” he told her softly, smiling gratefully at Olivia, one arm already up for her to throw over her shoulder once she turned around. 

“Thank you again. For everything you’ve done so far. You’re…” Henry trailed off, unable to think of a comparison that didn’t involve organized religion, finding it a little foolish to rattle off such a platitude to a woman who clearly worshiped the old gods. 

Olivia nodded, but stayed quiet, focused on getting Henry to bed so he could rest. Her mind was racing a million different ways, and the quicker she got him down, the quicker she could take a moment to clear her own head. Though she didn’t want him sleeping, upon entering the room, Olivia quickly realized it would be nearly impossible to keep him awake. Entertainment without electricity was difficult in the best of circumstances, let alone with a mild head injury. She really could only offer him books or puzzles, and for a city boy, Olivia knew those would only hold his attention for so long; she’d have no choice but to put Gunnar on watch. 

Making sure Henry was settled and tucked in, Olivia lit a fire in the smaller hearth inside the room and then perused the bookcase nearby for a few things to keep her guest occupied. 

“I know the choices for entertainment are slim around here, but I’ll have Gunnar stay with you and come get me if he senses anything’s wrong with you. Rest now,” she spoke softly, checking the bandages on his head one final time before setting the books next to him and calling for Gunnar. The dog came at a leisurely pace and, without being told, hopped up on the bed, settling in the small space between Henry and the wall, another huff aimed at his owner. 

“Be good. Keep an eye on him.” Olivia told him with a narrow-eyed smile. Lifting his head, [Gunnar mocked her outright](https://twitter.com/i/status/1069355934986715137), his mouth moving in a way that made it nearly impossible to think he didn’t speak whenever humans weren’t around.

“Do you want beef for dinner, or do you just want kibble?” Olivia asked, crossing her arms over her chest and looking at her pup expectantly. With a sound that was clear displeasure at the ultimatum, Gunnar looked up at Henry, looked back at Olivia and flopped his head down on Henry’s thigh in surrender. Olivia rolled her eyes and shook her head, never failing to find her dog amusing. 

“Rest. Shout if you need anything. I’ll be around.” Nodding at Henry, Olivia turned on her heel and headed out of the room, closing the door softly behind her.


End file.
